it started when we were younger (you were mine)
chapter 3: dreams
A.N: I hope people don't think I've over-updating. Truth is, I'm a lousy updater, and so I'd rather post a chapter every two days or so than wait two years like I've done before. This chapter is slightly more mature than the previous two, so here's a warning. Also, I've been encouraged to write a slightly smuttier Flash fic, so over the Christmas holidays you may see that appearing!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
It was 3:34am when Barry Allen woke with a start.
He was twelve, he was flushed and his bed sheets were wet. He looked at the stained sheets, the stained pyjama bottoms and the obvious tent within them and groaned in horror and shock, unable to believe that his body had decided to betray him now, when his best friend lay sleeping in the room down the hall from him.
And the worst thing is, Iris was the reason why he sat in his bed, a bead of sweat sliding down his face as he breathed heavily, recalling the vivid dreams that featured a glowing Iris that slid beneath him, panting and writhing in ecstasy as he pleased, as he pleasured her…
Rubbing his face wearily, he got out of bed, stumbling over the messy sheets that he gathered into his hand, a rumpled ball. Red-faced, he turned to his dresser and pulled out a clean pair of black boxers and padded to the door.
He snuck quietly as he could to the bathroom, and spent a good ten minutes trying to clean his semen soaked sheets. Huffing angrily under his breath, his wrung out his sodden duvet as best as he could and then stuffed it in the laundry hamper. If he managed to get away with it, he could try to forget this ever happened. However, if Joe caught the sheets, the detective would know and Barry would have to sit through "the Talk", while Iris watched on in amusement.
This was not the idealistic situation that Barry wanted to be in and he wanted desperately to prevent it, so he took off his wet boxers and hand washed them before placing them on the radiator so he could take them back to the security of his room afterwards, and then used a wash-rag to clean up the remains of his excitement. He slipped into the clean boxers and tiptoed out of the room, looking rapidly from left to right to check the coast was clear. It was - and with a sigh of relief he slid back to his room, closing the door with a resounding click.
Iris then opened her door, rubbing her eyes blearily as she peered at her surrogate brother's bedroom door in confusion, then turned and shrugging, headed back to bed.
The newly washed boxers lay dripping on the bathroom radiator, each drip drip drip of the water providing more evidence of Barry's loss of control.
Safe in his room, Barry slept on, soon drifting into yet another dream that would leave him aching with want over the girl who slept safely in her room.
And this would continue for years to come that eventually led to moments of weakness, alone with his hand and the remnants of the dreams he had.
In other words, he was well and truly screwed.
A.N: I'd like to say that if anyone thinks that Barry's too young to be thinking dirty thoughts, you're wrong. At 12 is when boys usually discover their sexual awareness - wet dreams is one of the first parts of male puberty, before the voice-cracking and such. I have male friends, so I know. If I'm wrong (which I don't think I am) well, it's a fanfiction. He could've had fairy wings and it would still be eligible.
Slightly longer than marriage I think. But nevertheless, an update. Hope you enjoyed and I'll see you when I see you!
Reviews are encouraged,
-chann3l.0rang3